Sara, of the Sun
by lianeviolet
Summary: Sara receives a poem from an anonymous admirer.


Title:  Sara, of the Sun

Author: lianeviolet

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All characters owned by the creators of CSI.

Summary: Sara receives a poem from an anonymous admirer.

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The remarkable beauty of a cloudless and cerulean sky should have reflected abounding hope and confidence within him as he strolled along this street of stone and brick that appeared so unfamiliar beneath the brilliant beam of sunlight from above.  If he were viewing this same scene underneath the radiance of the moon from a serene veil of darkness, as he did more often than he cared to admit to himself, all would be recognizable at once.  However, the Sun in all its wisdom was not bestowing any courage upon him and it took all of his control to abstain from just turning back and forgetting this entire mission. He could not give in to his apprehension because it was a very special day and he would berate himself forever if he did not go through with what he had planned so meticulously.  

The small house that had seemed so alluring during the evening from the haven of his parked vehicle now seemed formidable in the harshness of daylight, but he was aware that if he did not take this moment to complete his intentions, he never would summon the nerve do it again.

Taking great care to keep his steps as silent as possible, he treaded up the pleasant driveway and arrived at the front entrance.  He removed an envelope of very feminine stationery from the left breast pocket of his jacket and slipped it quietly under the door, then walked away with great haste for fear of being discovered by the tenant of the house.

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Sara Sidle glanced up with perplexity from her book at the unusual sound of footsteps outside her residence and the soft swish of paper pushed under her door.  She rose from her living room couch and considered acquiring her gun from the kitchen table before investigating the strange noise, then decided against it and moved carefully over to her window to pull back the curtain just enough to see her doorstep.  There appeared to be no one outside so she went to her door to confirm that it was locked and came upon the small, off-white envelope lying on the floor.  She tilted her head to the side in interest and began to bend down in order to pick it up when the criminal investigator within her kicked in suddenly and determined that this document might be unsafe; she should take some precautions before touching it.   

Sara went into her kitchen and dug around in her drawer of miscellaneous things until she found a pair of unused rubber gloves, pulled them on and returned to pick up the mysterious envelope.  She turned it over and studied it very carefully, looking for any strange powder or weird markings when she saw her first name written across the front in a calligraphic script. Furrowing her brow in thought, she deduced that the messenger who had brought this letter had to be someone she knew, although she did not recognize the handwriting.  Perhaps it was an invitation or a thank you note, but why the secrecy and personal delivery?  Why not just send this letter through the mail?

She returned to her living room, sat back down on the sofa and placed the envelope on the table where she stared at it in apprehension while biting her lip indecisively.  Part of her was curious what it contained; it could be something of good fortune or perhaps, as part of her feared, it held some terrible information that she might not want to know.

After much deliberation, she decided to open the envelope and just accept whatever it said.  Still wearing her gloves, she carefully tore the off the top and removed a single sheet of folded paper.  She took a deep breath and unfolded it; it was written in the same calligraphic print as the front of the envelope and the rest of the words appeared to be in a column like a poem.

"This is my birthday gift to you, Sara," she read aloud.  It was not signed and that brought her some concern, but she sat forward in her seat from anticipation; her heart was beginning to beat a bit faster.

Sara, of the Sun

It is all fire and fervor,

this image of you that I revere.

Your eyes of the fiercest flame

mirror the spark of your intense spirit;

I would gladly expend ages

basking beneath that glorious light,

or grant whatever was asked to be

the eager kindling ignited by your heated touch.

Sara, you are of the Sun;

searing through the sheltered core of my soul,

blazing brightly within my ardent thoughts,

burning your radiant ember upon my heart.

I am unworthy of your divine luminosity.

Your incandescence has seduced me to

abandon the arctic night so familiar within me;

I have deserted my romance with cold darkness

for you, my Goddess of the Torched Pyre.

I will be a Phoenix rising from the ashes

of my discarded self

for just one sacred moment

within the warmth of your arms.

It took a few moments for Sara to realize that she had been holding her breath and she exhaled audibly.  A smile spread slowly across her face and, although she tried to keep herself controlled, she felt as if her insides were jumping all around within her; she could not believe someone had spent the time to give her such a beautiful gift.  Her emotions floated between flattery and fear; from giddiness to grave unease at who this person might be.  Could it be the one person she hoped with all her heart it might be or was it some strange stalker who was obsessing over her?  That possibility was quite frightening, but how could she find out who this was?  After a few minutes of thought, Sara knew exactly what she would do about this and grinned at her own shrewdness.

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The criminal investigation office was humming with its usual hurried atmosphere and Gil Grissom had just finished passing out all the case assignments for the night, when he headed back to his office to get his coffee cup.  His orange-kneed tarantula was looking rather hungry so he took a moment to feed him and have a little, quiet conversation as he stroked the spider's back gently. His eyes fell upon a white envelope sitting on top of his desk and a puzzled expression came across his face.  He took a letter opener from out of his drawer and opened the mysterious letter.

 "To My Dearest Phoenix,

You could have just signed your name to the letter, love.  You left your fingerprints all over it.  Call me and we can watch the sun come up together in the morning.

Your Goddess of the Torched Pyre."

His heart soaring like he had never before experienced, Grissom refolded the note with a relieved smile, and placed it lovingly in the left breast pocket of his jacket.


End file.
